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digital arts Transition
From Brushstroke to Pixel: Transitioning into Creative Digital Arts
As we shift from traditional painting to the world of Creative Digital Arts, we carry forward the same essential principles: imagination, story, structure, and soul. But now, the tools evolve. Brushes give way to mouse and keyboard, canvases to tablets using styluses, and pigments to pixels. The digital medium unveils entirely new frontiers of artistic exploration—where composition merges with code, static images evolve into dynamic motion, and creativity is reimagined through computer-generated visuals that amplify voices and stories across global platforms.
Yet even as the format changes, the heart of the creative process remains the same. At the intersection of technology and imagination lies a growing field of innovation—one where ancestral motifs can be gently woven into digital patterns, and ancient stories reimagined through movement, sound, and interaction. The canvas may now be a screen, but the soul of the artwork remains deeply human.
In this next section, we’ll explore how everyday digital tools—like user-friendly apps such as Leonardo.AI, and creative AI platforms like DALL·E —make it easier to generate original artwork, illustrations, lifelike visuals, and even animations. These tools are not just for tech experts—they're accessible to anyone curious. Whether sketching with your fingertip on a tablet or using AI to bring an idea to life, digital art opens a door to new storytelling possibilities—bridging tradition and modernity, structure and spontaneity, design and dreaming.
Join me as we step into the fluid, ever-evolving landscape of Creative Digital Arts.
Frustrated Artist
From the earliest days of elementary school, I was that kid—the one who couldn’t resist turning the margins of math worksheets into miniature murals. Desks, notebooks, and the occasional bathroom stall door (allegedly)—all became part of my unsolicited art collection. Teachers scolded; I sketched. What they saw as rebellion was actually the blossoming of hand-eye coordination and a quietly growing obsession with realistic drawing.
After high school, I took a detour into the U.S. Navy as a jet mechanic. It had all the cinematic appeal of roaring engines and G-force dreams. But once I was elbow-deep in turbine grease and Navy acronyms, I realized something: I wasn’t built for torque specs and torque wrenches—I was built for torque sketches. Despite fast-tracking to E5 in just three years, I knew my soul was yearning for a different kind of elevation.
One day, buried deep in the cryptic pages of a jet engine assembly manual, I stumbled upon something that stopped me in my tracks—an exploded-view diagram. Gears and shafts floated midair in perfect, technical harmony. It was...beautiful. Coldly beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless. “I could draw that,” I thought—and just like that, I enrolled in drafting classes at the local community college.
It was the early 1980s, and I soon found myself working as a drafter in Silicon Valley, back when Silicon was still more sand than startup. But the honeymoon didn’t last. I quickly discovered that engineering drawings were not the creative utopia I had imagined. They were, instead, brutally rigid landscapes of lines, dimensions, tolerances, and the soul-draining phrase: “per ANSI standard.” Every time I tried to sneak a flourish—a little curve, a shade of personality—it was red-penned into oblivion by a supervisor who treated artistic interpretation like a safety violation.
Frustrated Artist continued:
Eventually, I made peace with the enemy. I put down the mechanical pencil and picked up the mouse. My journey into digital design began with the cold, pixelated logic of Computer-Aided Design (CAD). At first, I resisted. Trading the smudged romance of graphite for the sterile click of a mouse felt like swapping a violin for a calculator. But then something shifted—I began to adapt. And then... I started to see.
My artist’s eye slowly adjusted. I noticed the quiet elegance of logic diagrams, schematic layouts' visual rhythm, and lines' crisp choreography in an assembly drawing. It hit me: engineering graphics is an art form—just one dressed in business casual. And maybe that was okay. After all, everything man-made—from a coffee maker to a satellite—was once just a drawing. The art wasn’t always in the aesthetic, but in the clarity. The better you could visually communicate an idea, the more power you had to bring it to life.
That realization rekindled my artistic fire—not in spite of engineering, but through it. Designing something that works became my new brushstroke. I wasn’t sketching dreamy forest witches (yet), but I was building visual bridges between logic and life.
When I returned to traditional art, I didn’t leave my engineering roots behind—I brought them in disguise. The same precision and visual storytelling once used to explain turbine assemblies now show up in my brushstrokes. I took the box labeled “technical,” tore off the sticker, and slapped on one that said “art.” But let’s be honest—the conditioning stuck. I still catch myself aligning layers like I’m prepping for a structural load test.
Over time, though, that discipline stopped feeling rigid and started feeling like rhythm. It became second nature. Now, when I create digital art, there’s an invisible framework guiding the flow. I don’t consciously calculate—it just happens. Like muscle memory from another lifetime, the logic hums quietly while the spirit paints freely. It’s a strange and beautiful harmony: part technician, part mystic—with a mouse and a keyboard.
Technically Conditioned
. "So with every manufactured thing I see, I imagine drawings morphically emerging from them." I was conditioned to look at design as an engineering communication structure. There was nothing aesthetically artistic about it.
So now, every time I look at a manufactured object—be it a coffee maker, a traffic light, or a suspiciously over-engineered stapler—I can’t help but see ghostly engineering drawings morphically rising out of them, like haunted blueprints whispering, “We were here first.” It’s a bit like seeing the Matrix, but with tolerances, callouts, and exploded views instead of green code. I was so thoroughly conditioned to interpret the world through the sterile lens of engineering communication that I couldn’t just see a lamp—I had to see its schematic soul. And let me tell you, there's nothing artistically romantic about a wiring diagram, no matter how curvaceous the resistor symbol may try to be. The aesthetic joy of form and color? Completely sacrificed at the altar of functionality. It was like trying to write poetry in spreadsheet format—technically impressive, but emotionally bankrupt.
Haley Joel Osment from the movie "The Sixth Sense" (1999) when he mentions "I see dead people."
Adding the Digital Effect
With years of experience in Silicon Valley, I built a strong foundation in digital tools like Photoshop, Illustrator, and CAD software—long before they became common in creative work. My background focused on solving technical problems, with little room for personal expression. At the time, I never imagined these same tools would one day become a means of artistic exploration.
What began as a technical skillset slowly evolved into a creative outlet. The cursor that once traced logic diagrams now moves freely across the digital canvas, blending precision with intuition. It wasn’t a reinvention, but a quiet rediscovery—a shift from rigid systems to visual storytelling rooted in memory, culture, and imagination.
Exploring digital art after decades in structured environments has been like a musician stepping away from performance to compose purely for joy. Familiar software now supports unfamiliar freedom, and each project becomes an opportunity to create something meaningful—driven not by specs, but by the spirit of inspiration.
Explore the journey—visit my Pinterest page to view samples of my digital artwork.
Digital Layering Technique
While I'm not here to teach how to create digital art, I would like to share a technique I frequently use to craft the illustrations in my short stories. These artworks were created long before AI-generated images became mainstream, entirely by hand, using Adobe Illustrator and skills developed over decades in engineering and digital design.
I rely on a layered composition for my artwork, organizing every visual element—whether it's a shape, line, or highlight—into its own dedicated layer. This approach allows me to isolate, adjust, and fine-tune each part of the image without affecting the whole. Think of it as working with multiple transparent sheets: you can move elements forward or backward, test out ideas, adjust proportions, and create visual rhythm with precision.
This layering technique serves more than just aesthetic purposes—it's about control, clarity, and flexibility. It allows me to build thoughtfully and revise freely, especially when illustrating something drawn from memory.
From Technique to Meaning
Personal moments, cultural reflections, and lived experiences inspire my art. In this context, layering is a technique I use to infuse memory into imagery. Each piece is intentionally created, but the meaning behind the work—its story, emotion, and memories—adds depth. My goal is to create something that evokes a fond memory and spiritually guides the design process.
While layering serves as the tool, it is not the main focus. The true aim is to infuse feeling into form, allowing structure to support expression. These works are not abstract designs made for the sake of design; they are visual echoes of moments that truly mattered. The real artistry lies in honoring those moments and creating lasting spiritual memories that resonate with you forever.
DDS: Silicon Valley Wild Mustard
As I gazed out at the vast open fields of Silicon Valley's Golden Triangle, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The wild mustard plants that once flourished in these fields grew rampant, swaying in the gentle breeze like a joyful dance. It was here, amidst this breathtaking scenery, that I spent my childhood days running and playing with my friends. But now, the landscape has transformed beyond recognition, with towering tech companies and luxurious hotels replacing the once-peaceful fields. The area, nestled between highways 101, 880, and Interstate 237, has become a bustling hub of commercial activity, a far cry from the idyllic playground of my childhood.
Ah, the early 60s - a time when the world was different and full of life. It was a time when these plants grew everywhere before the towering tech companies took over. I still remember seeing Italian people picking these plants, and it reminded me of a similar plant that grew wildly back in my home countryside. The Italians were the first to teach us the intricate techniques of harvesting these delectable mustard greens, with their vibrant green leaves and crisp texture. Over time, the Asians quickly caught on and learned to expertly pluck and prepare these greens, unlocking their full potential and creating dishes that are a true delight for the senses.
As you venture through Silicon Valley, keep an eye out for the mustard plants scattered throughout the area. These hardy plants can flourish in unexpected places, like the pavement crevices or the unattended spaces between buildings. What's truly remarkable is that these mustard plants are native to this region and have been thriving here for many years, even before the tech industry arrived and transformed the landscape.
DDS: Ladybugs Are Good Luck
Spiritually, Lady Bugs are a symbol of GOOD LUCK. Much like finding a four leafed clover. They indicate coming SUCCESS.
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My dad loved ladybugs and let them be. These were natural predators of the aphids—a bug that would infest the rose bushes my dad grew for my mom. My dad said these bugs are good luck and not to kill them. I thought they were unique, like something out of a Transformers movie with a double set of wings. At flight, the red-and-black dotted cover would lift, and long wings would sprout. I was amazed at how well the wings were concealed.
Ladybugs lay their eggs directly in aphid colonies to ensure their larvae have an immediate food source; how excellent! They’re like transformers, and body snatchers rolled up in one.
DDS: Dad's Garden & the Tomato Monster
At our home in Silicon Valley, my dad used to grow vegetables in the backyard. I believe he must have loved to grow vegetables and fruit trees from working as a farmhand in Hawaii and California. He would grow bitter melon, string beans, eggplants, tomatoes, tabungaw and upo squash, and other varieties every year. Back then, they didn’t have Asian supermarkets. Many vegetables for Filipino dishes were unavailable, so they grew their own and traded with other friends and relatives.
The Tomato Monster
I have fond memories of these tomato hornworms. They were the baddest creatures in the backyard garden; no one messed with them. I would collect them and save them in a jar for caterpillar gladiator fights. I would put a black hairy caterpillar in the pot, and the hornworm would always win. These tomato monsters can grow to a massive four inches long before they turn into a dull giant brown moth.
DDS: The Calrose Rice Sack
Calrose was initially used for the medium-grain japonica rice experimentally cultivated in California. Calrose was developed at the Rice Experiment Station near the city of Biggs and released to California growers in 1948.
In Hawaii, they call this rice the sticky rice, preferred by Hawaiian locals. The sticky characteristics of this rice make it easier to shape foods, like musubi and different types of sushi.
I prefer this rice over other brands just for its taste. I was raised on Calrose rice, and it was the only rice my parents bought.
As homemakers back in the ’50s and ’60s, my mom and aunties were very resourceful—not wasting anything that could be reused as something else. The rice sack was one of those items.
My mom would cut the sack into squares or rectangles, overlap the edges, and sew them together to make kitchen towels. Back then, those rice sacks were made from 100 percent cotton and were pretty soft after washing a few items.
When visiting Filipino friends and relatives, I saw these rice sack towels hanging from the drawer cabinets in the kitchen. I wish I had saved one of them. I would’ve framed it and hung it on the wall as a novelty item to remind me of our mother’s resourcefulness.
The Digital Realm
The journey through Digital Arts Transition reflects a profound evolution from traditional artistry to the embrace of digital mediums. This transition is not merely about adopting new tools but about reimagining the creative process itself. The narrative begins with a personal tale of transformation—from sketching in the margins of school notebooks to navigating the structured world of mechanical drafting in Silicon Valley. The rigidity of technical drawings eventually gives way to the fluidity of digital design, where the mouse and keyboard become extensions of the artist's hand, allowing for a seamless blend of imagination and technology.
In this digital realm, the artist discovers that the essence of creativity remains unchanged. Whether using traditional brushes or digital tools, the core principles of imagination, story, structure, and soul persist. The digital canvas offers new dimensions—dynamic motion, interactive elements, and the ability to weave ancestral motifs into contemporary designs. It's a space where ancient stories can be reimagined through movement, sound, and interaction, bridging the gap between tradition and modernity.
Same Concept, Different Artform
Transitioning to Creative Writing & AI Art, we delve into a paradigm where the creative process is inverted. Here, the written word becomes the genesis of visual art. Narratives crafted with depth and emotion serve as prompts for AI algorithms, which then generate images that encapsulate the essence of the story. This method contrasts with the traditional approach, where visuals inspire prose. Instead, it positions writing as the catalyst for visual creation, emphasizing the power of language to evoke imagery.
While digital art and AI-generated art share the commonality of integrating technology into the creative image, their applications differ. My digital art started with a visual concept, which is then enhanced as it is explained through writing. In contrast, AI art begins with a story narrative, transforming AI learning applications into visual representations. This shift highlights the versatility of storytelling and the expanding avenues through which artists can express their visions in writing.
The downside is that you need to be a good writer to effectively convert the visual elements of a story into an image prompt for the AI application to create an image. However, the upside is that using the app and revising the generated images will help improve your writing skills over time.
From Digital Art Writing to Writing for AI Art
This evolution represents a deeper spiritual connection between the creator and the medium. The fusion of writing and AI-generated art highlights the belief that stories possess inherent power, capable of transcending different narratives and resonating across various imaginative experiences. It signifies a spiritual transcendence from words to imagination. This approach encourages artists to explore the symbiotic relationship between words and images, promoting a holistic method of storytelling that is both innovative and rooted in human experience.
By embracing new forms of artistic expression, artists are not abandoning tradition; instead, they are building upon it. This curious innovation serves as the spiritual driving force behind their work. Artists are pioneers in a landscape where technology seamlessly merges the tangible with the conceptual and the seen with the imagined. The shift from digital artistry to AI-generated visuals highlights the limitless potential of creative expression in the modern age. I will explore this theme further in the next section, titled "Creative Writing and AI Art," where I will share stories I’ve created and showcase AI-generated visuals.